There's an indignant silence as Junkrat scowls at Roadhog pointing out that it wasn't really home. That's obvious. But they've never really had something they could call a home for years now. He doesn't actually speak up until he starts asking questions:

"I made it this way."

He actually has a low, defensive tone. Pretty much everyone who's been here has asked the same question, if you could make anything, why choose to make a wasteland? Sure, it's not like he held Oz in some kind of honored, sentimental regard, because let's face it: he holds no alliance to the country that most would associate with Oz, but the dusty red earth was just as much a part of him as his jagged hairline and missing limbs.

So too was Roadhog, the only one who manages to show some kind of degree of discontentment that actually manages to get to Junkrat's core.

"We all get our little pockets to make whatever we want. Anything we want. Tried makin' somethin' fancy, tried makin' somethin' out of this world, tried makin' somethin' luxury, but nothin' felt right. Nothin' felt like a place I could sleep in. So I just went with somethin' more familiar."

Then, after a beat:

"If ya don't care fer it, ya can go make yer own."

...he didn't intend it to come out so sour, but it does anyway.