The very first Shabbat I spent in Israel, back in 1986 or so, I went to daven on Friday night at Karlin-Stolen in Meah Shearim. I obviously didn’t look Chassidish (I wore black pants and a white shirt), but five or six men came over and asked me if I’d like to come for a meal. I was touched and somewhat amazed.
Later that night we went to a few tishen, and I was not made to feel like an outsider in any way. As a matter of fact, at two of the tishen I was pushed forward so I could get closer to the action.