She knew about old money, wich was somehow hallowed by the fact that people had hung on to it for years, and she knew about new money, wich seemed to be made by all these upstarts that were flooding into the city these days. But under her powdered bosom she was an Ankh-Morpork shopkeeper, and knew that the best kind of money was the sort that was in her hand rather than someone else’s. The best kind of money was mine, not yours.

Terry Pratchett, Maskerade