In one of Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels, he writes something along these lines:
The residents of Ankh-Morpork are willing to welcome everyone. No matter what sex, what species, and what race: men, dwarfs, trolls... all that they care about is how much money they have and how to get it from them.
What is the exact quote and from which Discworld novel is it taken?
The closest I can find - specifically talking about diverse peoples - is a line from Reaper Man:
Ankh-Morpork has always had a fine tradition of welcoming people of all races, colours and shapes, if they have money to spend and a return ticket.
According to the Guild of Merchants' famous publication, Welkome to Ankh-Morporke, Citie of One Thousand Surprises, 'you the visitor will be asurred of a Warm Wellcome in the countless Ins and hostelries of this Ancient Citie, where many specialise in catering for the taste of guest from distant part. So if you a Manne, Trolle, Dwarfe, Goblin or Gnomm, Ankh-Morpork will raise your Glass convivial and say: Cheer! Here looking, you Kid! Up, You Bottom!'
Possibly Pyramids
There had been one or two like that in Ankh-Morpork—deposed royalty, who had fled their suddenly-dangerous kingdoms for Ankh’s hospitable bosom carrying nothing but the clothes they stood up in and a few wagonloads of jewels. The city, of course, welcomed anyone—regardless of race, color, class or creed—who had spending money in incredible amounts, but nevertheless the inhumation of surplus monarchs was a regular source of work for the Assassins’ Guild.
Possibly Moving Pictures
Every so often a ruler of the city builds a wall around Ankh-Morpork, ostensibly to keep enemies out. But Ankh-Morpork doesn’t fear enemies. In fact it welcomes enemies, provided they are enemies with money to spend*.
*In fact the Guild of Merchants’ famous publication Wellcome to Ankh-Morporke, Citie of One Thousand Surprises now has an entire section entitled “Soe you’re a Barbaeriean Invader?” which has notes on night life, folklorique bargains in the bazaar and, under the heading “Steppe-ing Out,” a list of restaurants that do a dependable mares’ milk and yak pudding. And many a pointed-helmeted vandal has trotted back to his freezing yurt wondering why he seems to be a great deal poorer and the apparent owner of a badly-woven rug, a liter of undrinkable wine and a stuffed purple donkey in a straw hat.
