I'm not going to try and speak for other sciences, but I can give a historical example from the kind of psychology that aims for being a scientific account of mind and behaviour. In this kind of psychology, there was a transition between the 1950s and 1970s between an overarching theory of psychology called behaviourism and an overarching theory of psychology called cognitivism.

Behaviourism was influenced by Ivan Pavlov's research on animal behaviour (Pavlov's dog and all that), and held (in brief) that people's (and animals') behaviour is heavily influenced by rewards and punishments in the environment around us; John B. Watson's 1913 essay 'Psychology As The Behaviorist Views It' is usually seen as a starting point for behaviourism in America. B.F. Skinner's version of behaviourism, radical behaviourism, was developed from the 1930s and 1940s, and was quite prominent in the U.S.; he was on the cover of Time Magazine in 1971, for example.

Cognitivism, in contrast, was influenced by Noam Chomsky's linguistics, and Chomsky's critique of Skinner, first published in 1959, along with early computer science/philosophy by the likes of Alan Turing and the 1956 article 'The Magical Number Seven, Plus Or Minus Two' by George A. Miller. In general (and in brief), it held/holds that the mind processed information in a computer-y kind of way; there is a big focus in cognitivism (a term more or less interchangeable with 'cognitive psychology') on understanding human memory by trying to conceive of it as being similar to computer memory.

A paper titled The Mythical Revolutions of American Psychology by Thomas Leahey (the author of a prominent history of psychology textbook) paints the 'cognitive revolution' as being largely unconscious during the 1950s and early 1960s; the problems with behaviourism identified by Chomsky and the like were seen as being within the tradition of behaviourism. George A. Miller said in a 2003 article that in the 1950s he did not realise he was a revolutionary, for example. Leahey argues that it was only after the publication of Thomas Kuhn's text The Structure Of Scientific Revolutions in 1962 that the change from behaviourism to cognitivism were seen as a 'revolution', following Kuhn's influential arguments about the way that science progresses.

According to Leahey, it was only in 1967 with Ulric Neisser's text Cognitive Psychology that the idea of cognitivism was codified within psychology as a separate overarching theory to behaviourism; by 1975, you get Aaron T. Beck's book Cognitive Therapy, which is widely seen as being the genesis of CBT (now the most common psychotherapy technique).

There's an interesting 1999 paper by Robins, Gosling and Craik, which analysed the amount of cognitivist vs behaviourist psychology journals per year, via keyword analysis, between 1950 and 1997. According to Robins, Gosling and Craik, it was around 1970 when there were finally more papers with cognitivist keywords than behaviourist keywords. Interestingly, Robins, Gosling and Craik also looked at the amount of keywords in PhD dissertations over a similar time period, and found a similar crossover time; this suggests that it's not as simple as old behaviourists dying and being replaced by new cognitivists, as otherwise the upcoming PhD students would surely be flocking towards the new thing (cognitivism) rather than the old thing.

If you look at some biographies of big names in psychology, Skinner actually kept critiquing cognitivism right up until his death; in a 1990 article called 'Can Psychology Be A Science Of Mind?' - one of the last things he wrote - he concedes that cognitive psychology has won the war of popularity, but nonetheless denies that cognitive psychology has contributed anything useful to psychology. Clearly, Skinner was never going to change his mind; Max Planck is right in this respect.

However, Skinner was probably unusual in his devotion to behaviourism; his version was called 'radical behaviorism,' after all. If he had changed his mind on the topic, it might actually have been a big news item. However, not every scientist is the kind of person who comes up with big theories; other scientists are usually more interested in solving puzzles using the best theories they have. So, when the dominant mood in psychology was that there were big problems with behaviourist theory, and that cognitivist theory seemed like a viable alternative, plenty of people switched camps, being more interested in solving the puzzles than hanging onto outmoded theories. Martin Seligman (these days associated with the 'positive psychology' movement), for example, started out as a researcher in the behaviourist tradition in the 1960s looking at learned helplessness, but soon saw the advantages of discussing learned helplessness in cognitivist terms, and rejigged his theory to discuss attributional styles. Nonetheless, behaviourist theories are still taught in psychology classes today in 2016 (often in somewhat rejigged form) because they still do have some value in predicting behaviour, even if most psychologists are more dubious about why they have that value than Skinner was.

The problem with evaluating claims like this is it requires some strong working definition of "changed their minds." Do scientists ever "change their minds"? Well, sure — maybe they thought the value of X was 0.123, but later experiments showed it to be 0.1229, and they believe the experiment and use the new value. Does that count? Maybe in a pedantic way, but it's not really what Planck was probably indicating.

Planck's idea is more like Thomas Kuhn's idea of a "revolution" in a "paradigm" (and indeed Kuhn's use of Planck's quote is probably what made it well-known) — a big shift on the level of that which took place in physics in the early 20th century (from a classical, essentially Newtonian worldview to a quantum and relativistic one).

So we might have "boundaries" between tiny-incremental-change and massive-conceptual-change. But in between those poles is a huge fuzzy grades of change, and not everyone will agree on what counts as a big change versus a little one.

I have had a lot of discussions with my colleague John Horgan, who wrote a book in the mid-1990s called The End of Science, which basically argues that science has undergone as many big revolutions as it actually will ever go through, and that everything else will be small refinements, not big changes. Now lots of scientists (and historians) have said to John that this seems like a rather strange thing to say — surely there have been discoveries since then, surely science will continue on and on indefinitely. But John (who again is a good friend and knows my critiques very well) is always fond of downgrading the "bigness" of these discoveries. Is the discovery of the Higgs boson really a big deal, or does it just elaborate the existing Standard Model of physics in an incremental way? Really depends on who you ask, in the end. (My argument against John: What are the sheer odds that science reached its peak in the Clinton administration? Might this apparent stalling out have more to do with changing funding priorities in the post-Cold War, than something intrinsic to the knowledge itself?)

Anyway, I just bring that up to show that this is a tricky kind of question. That doesn't mean you can try to answer it one way or the other — just because something is complex doesn't mean it's unanswerable or not worth talking about. (In fact, this is just the kind of question I can imagine giving students in my history of science or STS courses as a take-home essay...)

Planck's underlying point, that scientific change is typically about changes in the network of scientists and not about conversion is one that most historians and sociologists of science would probably agree with. In general, as I understand it, genuine conversion is pretty rare when it comes to strongly-held, worldview-level ideas (whether about science, politics, religion, whatever). It can happen. But it is rare, because human brains, once latched onto a worldview, tend to find ways to justify it. This is, to be sure, a vast generalization, and I am sure people at /r/AskSocialScience might be able to discuss what studies have been done on this (I am generalizing from things my social science colleagues have told me). The question is, are scientists any better at this than the average person? My suspicion would be no and that in fact they are probably worse, only because on matters of expertise they are very dug in both institutionally (changing fields/types of research is non-trivially difficult) and intellectually (when you have studied something for over a decade, you "know" it very deeply... and there are many historical examples of people "knowing" things very deeply that turned out to be totally false).

But to get back to the networks — there are many good studies, of both qualitative and quantitative methodologies, that show that the dynamics of scientific communities are about changing who matters, not changing minds. That is, ideas and disciplines are linked to groups of people. Big changes in disciplines are about changing who those groups are (and the aging out that Planck describes is one mechanism), not changing what those groups think. This is a broad generalization, but there is much in the sociology of science about this idea. (And it is a version of Kuhn's idea, as well.)

Which is not a comprehensive answer, but I hope it sketches out some dimensions of it, and at least what sociologists and historians tend to think about this kind of question.

For further reading, Thomas Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions is a classic in the field, a really seminal book on the topic of "how does science change?" I would not consider it the final authority on these matters, in part because of Kuhn's own interests, and also because he takes the case of early 20th century physics to be representative of all of science (which is a big assumption). (Which by the way raises an additional wrinkle: how do you develop a science of science? If science is itself subject to psychological and sociological effects, how do you study those, knowing you are subject to them as well? This is called reflexivity in our literature, and it becomes a rather difficult rabbit hole to go down.) On the sociology of science and its networks, the work of Bruno Latour is still very dominant in the field (his Science in Action: How to Follow Scientists and Engineers through Society, is a good place to start, and I often use chapters out of this when teaching). There are many other possible ways to approach this sort of question, but those two are ones I enjoy assigning as introductions. In general there is much in the disciplines of History, Philosophy, Sociology, and Anthropology of science dedicated to these kinds of questions. John Horgan's The End of Science, whether one buys the argument or not, does a very admirable job of summarizing many of these scholarly discussions. On the quantitative models I mentioned, this is rather specific/detailed work, but Manfred Laubichler leads a group that does very interesting work modeling how scientific concepts map onto different groups of researchers, and using models from evolutionary theory to look at how new "innovations" take place and move throughout the "population" (it is basically a genetic regulation model — so here a new idea is something like a genetic mutation, and the scientists are the gene pool). Very interesting, cutting-edge computational approaches to how ideas develop, circulate, dominate.

Hello! While you're more than welcome to ask this question here, you might also do well to crosspost it to /r/askscience/